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Romancing the Tycoon. Debra WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.

Romancing the Tycoon - Debra  Webb


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there was nothing she could do about it today. It was Friday and Monday was a holiday. She might as well put it out of her mind and enjoy the long weekend. Maybe between now and Tuesday some sort of epiphany would hit and she would know just what to do. Or maybe some handsome stranger would move into the empty apartment across the hall and invite her to help him settle in.

      Yeah, right.

      The envelope Victoria had given her snagged her attention once more. She looked at her watch. The trip to the Winterbornes would take at least another hour, she might as well make a fuel stop. Then she’d have a chance to take a look at that report. Why not? She read all the Colby Agency reports. No one had told her she couldn’t.

      Banishing the guilt factor to the farthest corner of her mind, she pulled into the lot of the next gas station and parked near the pump. Once the nozzle was in place and the gasoline filling her tank, she climbed back into her car and opened the clasp on the envelope containing the report.

      John Robert Calhoun, IV. She surveyed the picture of the Texas cowboy and her mind immediately dredged up the list the glamour magazine poll had compiled. Tall. Mm-hmm. Broad-shouldered. Yep. Well-muscled. She studied the pictures that had been taken without the subject’s knowledge. He sat astride a horse and was, apparently, rounding up a herd of horses. Holy-moly—he was gorgeous. A little shiver went through her, awakening a long-slumbering libido. Now there was a real man.

      She remembered hearing Victoria tell Mildred that his ranch was called the Wild Horse because he took in the wild animals from all around the country to keep poachers from harming them. A hero. Hmmm. Compassionate and definitely well-muscled, she decided after studying his image awhile longer. And sinfully handsome without a question. His blond hair and blue eyes contrasted sharply with his deeply tanned skin.

      He looked like the kind of cowboy who could make any woman swoon. The perfect man. Oh, yeah. Amy sighed wistfully. Lucky Regina Winterborne. He was all hers.

      She shook her head and shoved the report back into the envelope. What did she care about hard-bodied cowboys anyway? Focus. She had to stay focused. Right now she had one thing on her mind and one thing only: becoming the next Colby Agency investigator.

      Regrettably, she didn’t have time for anything else…even fantasizing about a rugged cowboy who was promised to another woman.

      Chapter Two

      Regina Winterborne was many things. Spoiled, admittedly. Impetuous, definitely. But dumb she was not. She had no intention of marrying some stubborn, macho cowboy. No matter what her daddy promised her.

      Living a whole hour outside of Chicago was bad enough. It made hair salon appointments as well as spa sessions immensely annoying. Every time she wanted the least little thing she had to drive all the way into the city. She hated driving into the city. She hated living in the country more.

      But she’d tried taking her own apartment in town. The penthouse she’d selected had been opulent without doubt. Her staff of three—cook, maid and personal assistant—had been top notch. The only drawback had been the money. There was never enough of it.

      Her father had insisted that if she were going to live away from home she would learn to do so on a budget. So he’d set her up on a monthly allowance. Well, she huffed as she remembered the ridiculously paltry amount, how was she supposed to conduct herself properly under such conditions? Why, there’d scarcely been anything left to pay the hired help each month. So, she’d had to move back home and play the dutiful daughter whenever her father was around.

      She folded her arms over her chest and glared out the floor-to-ceiling window of his study. Anything to keep from having to look him directly in the eye. He read her too easily. She wasn’t about to let him see what she really thought just now.

      “Regina, don’t turn your back on me,” he ordered in that booming voice that made the board of directors at Winterborne Industries sit up and take notice.

      She simply rolled her eyes. “I’m not turning my back on you, Daddy. I’m merely enjoying the fabulous view.” And it was fabulous, if one was into miles of sickeningly lovely landscape and nothing else.

      He moved up beside her, obviously content with her lie. “This is for your own good, my dear. I only want the best for you.”

      Yeah, right. He wanted to seal this history-making deal and get her out of his hair at the same time. “I’m sure you do.” She wasn’t entirely successful at keeping a hint of sarcasm out of her tone.

      “I know what you’re thinking,” he said more quietly.

      That couldn’t possibly be true, she mused, or he’d be ranting rather than gentling his usually boisterous voice. Because right now the only thing she was thinking was how much she wished someone would rescue her from this prison.

      Someone like Kevin. Her heart skipped a beat. But Kevin was long gone. He’d quickly grown weary of her father’s interference in their relationship…just like all the others.

      “You’re thinking,” her father went on, “that I just want you married off so someone else will have to attend to your needs.”

      Give the man a cigar. She gritted her teeth, holding back those very words.

      “But that’s not true at all,” he urged. “You’re my only daughter—my only child. I want the very best for you.” He sighed mightily. “I worry that you’ll fall victim to the charms of some no-account like that Kevin Martin. He’s worthless.”

      Regina didn’t have to look to know that her father’s face had turned beet-red, she could hear his temper rising in his voice. He hated Kevin. Had hated all her boyfriends from the time she was fourteen and had developed breasts as well as a mind of her own.

      Well, that was just too bad. He was not going to pick her husband. She would not be forced into an arranged marriage.

      “If your mother were here, she’d tell you the same thing,” her father said more calmly. “Men like Martin are leeches—self-serving and uncaring about anyone but themselves. He isn’t nearly good enough for you. I hope you see that.”

      “Yes, Daddy,” she lied again, just to get him off the subject. “I know that Kevin is scum. You don’t have to worry. He broke up with me anyhow.”

      That much was the truth. Kevin had tired of the run-ins with her father and had opted to run out on her. She stiffened her spine against the unfairness of it all. And now her father wanted her to marry some cowboy just because he had the largest oil business in Texas. No way.

      “You’re twenty-four, Regina. It’s time you settled down and took on the responsibilities of being a Winterborne. You will inherit everything I have worked my entire life to build and that my forefathers worked to build before me. If you’re not ready for that challenge, you might lose everything.”

      Now that grabbed her attention. She looked at her father for the first time since the conversation began. “What do you mean I might lose everything?”

      He shook his head sadly from side to side. “I had no choice but to make a codicil to my will. Unless I am fully convinced that you are prepared to take over the company and run it properly, the board of directors will run things as per my final instructions and you will receive a monthly allowance until such time that they deem you fit to take charge of the company.”

      Horror burgeoned like a scream in her throat. “But…but,” she croaked, “how will I live?” Begging on a street corner flashed vividly through her mind. Dear God, he couldn’t be serious. His idea of an allowance was laughable at best. And those crusty old codgers on the board hated her!

      “It doesn’t have to come to that,” he said pointedly. “All you have to do is trust me and you’ll have everything.”

      The horror drained away leaving an almost blinding clarity. “In other words, if I marry this Texan I get everything…if I don’t I get a measly allowance.”

      Indignation


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